those dogs. No real lady I think would have so many dogs.--It--It
isn't sanitary."

"Isn't--sanitary?" cried Flame. "Why Mother, they are the most
absolutely--perfectly sanitary dogs you ever saw in your life!" Into
her eager young voice an expression of ineffable dignity shot
suddenly. "Well--really, Mother," she said, "In whatever concerns men
or crocheting--I'm perfectly willing to take Father's advice or yours.
But after all, I'm eighteen," stiffened the young voice. "And when it
comes to dogs--I must use my own judgment!"

"And just what is the lady's name?" questioned her Mother a bit
weakly.

"Her name is 'Miss Flora'!" brightened Flame. "The Butler has just
gone to the Station to meet her! I heard him telephoning quite
frenziedly! I think she must have missed her train or something! It
seemed to make everybody very nervous! Maybe _she's_ nervous! Maybe
she's a nervous invalid! With a lost Lover somewhere! And all sorts of
pressed flowers!--Somebody ought to call anyway! Call right away, I
mean, before she gets any more nervous!--So many people's first
impressions of a place--I've heard--are spoiled for lack of some
perfectly silly little thing like a nutmeg grater or a hot water
bottle! And oh, Mother, it's been so long since any one lived in the
Rattle-Pane House! Not for years and years and years! Not dogs,
anyway! Not a lemon and white wolf hound! Not setters! Not spotty
dogs!--Oh Mother, just one little wee single minute at the door? Just
long enough to say 'The Rev. and Mrs. Flamande Nourice, and Miss
Nourice, present their compliments!'--And are you by any chance short
a marrow-bone? Or would you possibly care to borrow an extra quilt to
rug-up under the kitchen table?... Blunder-Blot doesn't look very
thick. Or--Oh Mother, _p-l-e-a-s-e!_"

When Flame said "Please" like that the word was no more, no less, than
the fabled bundle of rags or haunch of venison hurled back from a
wolf-pursued sleigh to divert the pursuer even temporarily from the
main issue. While Flame's Mother paused to consider the particularly
flavorous sweetness of that entreaty,--to picture the flashing eye,
the pulsing throat, the absurdly crinkled nostril that invariably
accompanied all Flame's entreaties, Flame herself was escaping!

Taken all in all, escaping was one of the best things that Flame
did.... As well as the most becoming! Whipped into scarlet by the
sudden plunge from a stove-heated store into the frosty night her
y